


The Smell of (Cheese) Dust After Rain(ing Terror on the Newbies)

by soufflegirl91



Series: 007 Fest Creations [22]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Just give them your Wotsits, ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 01:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: For the 007 Fest 2019 Anon Prompt Exchange - "Hey, take it easy, mate. Just give me the Wotsits and nobody needs to get hurt."





	The Smell of (Cheese) Dust After Rain(ing Terror on the Newbies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/gifts).

> Cross-posted to Tumblr

It had been a long, exhausting mission. For the past week, Q Branch had been supporting a dangerous, time-critical mission in Somalia that had 004, 006 and 007 all on the ground trying to stop a combined mass kidnapping and multi-centred bomb attack. While the minions had been on rotating shifts, Q and R had been working 24 hours over the last 3 days, merely taking the time to kick each other out for short naps before the other could collapse. 

They had worked their way through the emergency rations by day 5, and over the last 48 hours had been eating whatever scraps they could find. Moneypenny and Tanner had made sure to raid the vending machines before each visit to Q Branch, but there were only so many KitKats and Belvita bars a person could eat. What they really needed was a full 8 hours sleep and a balanced meal, but that would have to wait until they got their agents home. They would take what they could get. If they needed to intimidate the newest Q Branch recruits into handing over their packed lunches, then so be it.

This was how it started:

The crinkle of the crisp packet being opened passed Q and R by, both of them too busy co-ordinating the last stage of 007’s extraction (Bond had of course managed to get himself separated from his fellow agents and thus required separate extraction. Q was not pleased). When Bond finally boarded the helicopter a few seconds later, they muted their comms with synchronised sighs of relief. R buried her head in her hands, exhausted. Q slumped back in his chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling. 

Q sniffed. 

He sniffed again.

He raised his head and peered around the room, meerkat-like. R, catching wind of her boss-slash-best-friend's movements, raised her head. She gave a tentative sniff of her own.

Cheese dust. 

Someone had crisps. And not just crisps, cheese puffs. By the smell of it, these weren’t even the generic store brand version, but the real thing. Involuntarily, R's mouth watered. She saw Q's fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye.

Later, when the dust had settled, and the more experienced team members had consoled the newbies, they would remember this moment clearly. How, like a pair of lionesses on the hunt, Q and R had gone from sleepy stillness to alert focus in the blink of an eye. It wouldn’t be strictly accurate to say that they pounced on poor Colin, but the metaphor fits. 

All Colin knew was that one moment, he was reaching for a morsel of cheesy goodness, and the next, he was being stared down by his superiors. They sniffed in eerie unison, eyeing the slightly bent cylinder with rounded edges that was resting between his thumb and index finger. He gulped. No one had told him when he started last month that it would be like this.

A hush settled over the branch. This had happened once before. Everyone remembered the Great Wispa Hunt debacle with a shudder. Leila, who had been the owner of the aforementioned Wispa, hid under her desk with a muffled whimper. Colin dropped the snack as if burned. 

The blue crisp packet sat innocently on the desk between the two predators and their unwitting prey. 

The stress was too much for poor Colin. He burst into terrified tears.

The assembled minions all took a cautious step back. 

R gathered her wits just enough to raise a placating hand in Colin’s direction.

"Hey, take it easy, mate. Just give me the Wotsits and nobody needs to get hurt." 

Colin was not comforted by this. Q's laser stare had not left the desk. Whether or not he had noticed the confrontation was debatable.

Q inched forwards.

Colin inched backwards.

Q's backside started to wriggle, like cat preparing to go in for the kill. 

It was all too much for Colin. 

“Just take them,” he yelled, “they’re not my favourite crisps anyway!” He was openly sobbing now. “Take them and leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone!”

With a final, tortured yell, Colin ran in the direction of the loo. A couple of the more experienced minions followed. It would be best if they could bring the situation under control before HR, or worse, the double oh division, found out. 

Without even a cursory glance at Colin, Q and R descended on the poor, defenceless crisps. With a swiftness borne of desperation, they shovelled the orange morsels into their mouths. Q Branch watched in mute horror as they licked their fingers, chewing and smacking their lips obscenely. 

The beep of a security pass opening the branch entrance didn’t disturb them, nor did the click of high heels across the floor. 

“Right, time for exhausted boffins to go-" Moneypenny cut off, staring at the scene in front of her.

Then, the only sound was the crinkle of the packet as Q went after any remaining cheese dust. 

_ (A few days later, when they were allowed to return to the branch after some much-needed rest and more than a few well-rounded meals, Q and R were mortified at the reaction they received. Poor Colin let out a shriek of despair when he caught sight of them. However, when he returned from his lunch break – in the canteen now, he wasn’t making that mistake a second time – he found a bumper 24 pack of Wotsits waiting for him.) _


End file.
